


Sweet Dreams

by neganslucilletblr



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Awkwardness, Crack, Embarrassed, Flustered, Gay Sex, M/M, Smut, Tension, blowjob, dream - Freeform, m/m - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-25
Updated: 2020-09-25
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:15:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26644360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neganslucilletblr/pseuds/neganslucilletblr
Summary: A sexy dream about someone completely unexpected leaves Dean feeling awkward and flustered.
Relationships: Dean/Mick, DeanMick, Mick Davies & Dean Winchester
Comments: 1
Kudos: 12





	Sweet Dreams

**Author's Note:**

> Written for my DeanMick square on my SPN Kink Bingo Square (other square fills can be found on my tumblr - @negans-lucille-tblr)

“ _Holy fuck-” Dean gasps for air, arching his back up into the touch, his cock wet and warm and so deep inside. He feels the warm wet tongue swirl around his length, feels the way the tip of it kitten licks at the ridge under his head and then up to where there’s pre-cum leaking. Dean’s fingers are buzzing from gripping the sheets beneath him so tightly, until one hand lets go and flies to the back of their head. Dean’s fingers brush through short hair and his thighs tense when his cock slips out from between swollen lips and slaps against his stomach. “You’re good at this,” he pants, almost in disbelief._

“ _Told you I was.” The English accent that fills the room is not what Dean’s used to, but he glances down his body and is met with blue eyes. Dean scoffs, throwing his head back when they lower their mouth to his balls and start to suck, stubble grazing at his thighs._

“ _Jesus, Mick,” Dean grunts. Mick smirks, actually_ smirks _against Dean’s skin, like he knows exactly what he’s doing, and it drives Dean crazy._

“ _You wanna be fucked today, or you wanna fuck me?” Mick asks, his blue eyes sparkling up at Dean. Dean can’t even breathe properly, let alone make a decision. Mick’s hand strokes up Dean’s thigh, cupping at his balls and then lowering down, down down until - “you took it so well last time.”_

“ _No,” Dean grunts out, “it’s my turn to fuck you.” Mick chuckles and straightens up, kissing Dean passionately with wet, swollen lips as he wraps a hand around Dean’s cock and tugs softly._

“ _Okay but fair warning, I’m tight,” Mick tells him against his lips._

“ _Yeah, I’m banking on it.”_

  
  


Dean startles awake, sweat collecting on his forehead and his chest heaving as he sits up and looks around to find he’s alone in his bedroom. 

“Fuck,” he grumbles, his mind slowly coming around, his heart thumping hard in his chest. “Just a dream, just a dream,” he chants to himself to calm down. He throws the covers back and looks down to see a noticeable bulge in his pyjama pants. “Sonovabitch,” he grunts. His stomach tenses as he remembers his dream. But he can’t _control_ what he dreams, right? Right. He rolls out of bed and ignores the situation between his legs, until it disappears, and he gets dressed. Dean’s going to forget that he ever dreamed it. Sam would probably say it was some subconscious hidden message, that he didn’t _really_ want to have sex with Mick - because he didn’t. Dean knows he is definitely completely straight and he is _definitely_ not interested in Mick.

  
  


-

  
  


Dean does a fairly good job at forgetting about the dream most of the day, until the evening, when the star role in his dream turns up at the bunker. Suddenly it’s pretty hard now to forget, when the man in question is standing right in front of him, looking at him with those fucking blue eyes that fucking sparkle. Dean’s mouth is dry and he needs a drink, preferably alcoholic - whiskey if possible, but he’ll take anything at this rate. Dean can’t say anything, even when addressed, and Sam manages to pick up the slack as they discuss the case together. In fact, Dean’s mind is on anything but the case as Mick takes a seat opposite him on the table and splays his hand out on the table top - the very hand that Dean had dreamed was wrapped around his cock last night. _Fuck._ Mick’s fingers start to drum against the wooden surface as they all talk, and then they reach up and scrub at his stubble. Dean knows how that stubble feels on his thighs - _stop thinking about it._

  
  


He clears his throat and shuffles in his chair, feeling his cheeks heat up, and he’s so freaking _uncomfortable,_ but at least he’s not turned on, he supposes, no matter how good he remembers it feeling when Mick’s mouth was around his - 

  
  


Dean’s chair scrapes along the floor as he flies out of it and starts to pace the empty space, and he realises everyone is looking at him.

“Needed to stretch my legs,” Dean grunts with a nonchalant shrug. Mick smirks slightly - _what’s that about, by the way?_ \- and Sam returns to what he was saying. 

“Dean?” Sam presses, snapping Dean out his inner turmoil. 

“Yeah?” he asks, clearing his throat once more. 

“I said me and Ketch are gonna go check it out, you and Mick should stay here and see what you can find out.” Dean’s mouth is even more dry now, his head thudding in his chest.  
“Or… Or I can go with you and we leave these two together,” he suggests desperately. Sam frowns slightly. “Or hey, I can go with Ketch, or Mick can go with you.”

“You’ll be fine,” Sam tells him, clearly confused. 

“Sammy,” Dean squeaks. 

“Yeah?” Sam frowns. He waits for an answer, but Dean can’t exactly say he doesn’t wanna be alone with Mick because he had a weird sex dream about him last night, can he?

  
  


Sam stands up, Ketch following him, and it’s decided that they are leaving Dean here, in the library with British sparkly-blue-eyes-McStubble. Once they’re alone, Dean blushes violently and clears his throat. 

“So you must have some sort of book around here for it,” Mick speaks up. 

“What?” Dean asks quickly, “oh yeah, urm, yeah I’ll look for it.” Dean is quick to turn around and raid shelves, anything to stop talking and not have to look at the man. Dean finally finds a book or two and grabs them, handing them over. Mick’s fingers brush his as he takes the books and Dean’s instinctive reaction is to drop the books immediately and snatch his hand back. 

  
  


“You okay there, Dean? You’ve been a little off today,” Mick comments, bending down to collect the books from the floor. And fuck, suddenly his head is _right there_ and Dean remembers the feel of his cock in Mick’s mouth, and he steps back, flustered. 

“Fine, s’fine,” Dean mutters whilst nodding, convincing himself more than anything. 

“Are you sure, mate? You just seem to be avoiding me,” Mick points out. _Fuck, it’s obvious._ Dean swallows and nods again. 

“Why would I be avoiding you?” he forces a laugh, “no, nope, not avoiding you I am… totally not-” He stops abruptly, realising he’s only digging himself into a deeper hole. Dean backs away from him, not liking how close they are, and his ass hits the table with a thud. “Ah fuck,” he gasps, rubbing at his ass. 

“You okay there? Hurt yourself?” Mick presses. 

“No! No it’s fine… I, urm, I need the bathroom.” 

  
  


Dean can’t get out of there quick enough as he speeds into the bathroom and splashes cold water over his face. _It was just a dream_ he tells himself yet again. _You don’t like Mick like that, you’re straight, and he doesn’t like you like that either._ Mick’s straight too - or maybe he isn’t, Dean doesn’t know - but either way it doesn’t matter, because Dean _is_ straight and nothing is going to happen between them and his brain was just fucked up and made him dream up something so completely sexual and it wasn’t _his fault._ It didn’t _mean anything._

  
  


When Dean returns to the library he’s feeling a little calmer, a little less flustered, and Mick’s sat pouring over another book. Dean slowly takes the seat opposite the Englishman again and takes a deep breath, pulling the book Mick isn’t reading in front of him. Mick glances up at Dean several times before sighing, his eyes slightly squinted. 

“You look tired, Dean, why don’t you take a break? I got this for a couple hours if you want to have a nap,” Mick offers. Dean shakes his head, he doesn’t need a break. Mick accepts his refusal and sits back, thumbing through the book in front of him slowly as his tongue comes out to dance along his lips. Dean finds himself watching for a moment, remembering how good that tongue feels, what it can do. _Fuck._ He feels his trousers tightening around his crotch and stands up abruptly. 

“I am tired actually, think I will take a break,” he announces quickly, feeling a heat prickle over his entire body. 

Mick smirks again as he stares at Dean for a long moment before finally replying, “okay, Dean. Sleep well. Sweet dreams.” 

  
  


Dean swallows hard and nods, leaving the room quickly. Sweet dreams are exactly what he hopes he doesn’t have, especially if they’re going to be about Mick. 


End file.
